CALL to ARMS an Empire Army Novel by Mitchel Scanlon
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The Black Library Page 1 The Black Library Page 2 CALL TO ARMS An Empire Army Novel By Mitchel Scanlon Dieter Lanz is a young recruit to the 3rd Hochland Swordsmen, otherwise known as 'the Scarlets'. His regiment is called into battle when a greenskin army starts to rampage across the countryside. When the Scarlets are defeated, Hochland is threatened with collapse. Only the return of a retired general offers hope against the invading force, with the very survival of their homeland at stake... About the Author Mitchel Scanlon is a full-time novelist and comics writer. His previous credits for the Black Library include the Horus Heresy novel Descent of Angels , Fifteen Hours , the background book The Loathsome Ratmen , and the comics series Tales of Hellbrandt Grimm . More Mitchel Scanlon from the Black Library DESCENT OF ANGELS A Horus Heresy novel FIFTEEN HOURS An Imperial Guard novel The Black Library Page 3 • EMPIRE ARMY • REIKSGUARD By Richard Williams IRON COMPANY By Chris Wraight • MORE WARHAMMER FROM THE BLACK LIBRARY • TIME OF LEGENDS The Sundering MALEKITH SHADOW KING By Gav Thorpe Sigmar HELDENHAMMER SIGMAR By Graham McNeill Legend of Nagash NAGASH THE SORCEROR NAGASH THE UNBROKEN By Mike Lee The Black Library Page 4 The following is an excerpt from Call to Arms by Mitchel Scanlon. Published by the Black Library. Games Workshop, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK. Copyright © Games Workshop Ltd, 2010. All rights reserved. Reproduction prohibited, in any form, including on the internet. For more details or to contact us visit the Black Library website: www.blacklibrary.com. ‘Y OU SEE THEM ?’ Holst asked, spotting the direction of his gaze. ‘A beast herd. They held back to let their champions have a go at you. I take it those three dead ungors are yours as well? That piece of work is probably what attracted the champions’ attention. Anyway, now they’re dead, the rest of the herd won’t mess about. There’ll be no more single combat. They’ll rush us in one mass, try to take us through weight of numbers.’ The movement intensified. Dieter saw a number of beastmen emerge from among the trees. They were of the smaller kind, the ones Holst called ‘ungors’. Watching the enemy gather, Dieter was struck by how much he and Holst were outnumbered. ‘We fight back to back,’ Holst told him. ‘That way, we cover each other. I’ve seen your sword-work, lad, and it’s fine. But this isn’t the time for fancy moves. This is war, not fencing. A beast comes at you, you kill it. You keep things hard, fast and simple. You don’t worry about the next beast, or the one after that. They’ll come at you in their own good time, and you’ll get them then. You understand me?’ ‘I understand,’ Dieter answered. ‘Right then, let’s get to business.’ Turning his back so he and Dieter faced in opposite directions, Holst called out in a loud voice to the beastmen. ‘What are you waiting for, you bastards? We killed your champions. Come get what they got.’ The enemy hardly seemed to need the encouragement. Having gathered their forces in sufficient quantity to counteract the nervousness they felt at facing the men who had defeated their champions, the beastmen charged toward Dieter and Holst. In the long seconds as they waited for the ungors to reach them, Dieter felt The Black Library Page 5 a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He counted more than a dozen of the enemy, even as yet more ungors emerged from the forest to join the attack. Looking from face to face of the creatures charging towards him, Dieter saw a succession of features all set in the same general lines of savagery, rage and hate. He wondered how he and Holst could ever hope to hold them back. Then, the enemy was upon them and the time for misgivings was past. As before, one beastman ran ahead of its fellows, more eager for the kill. Dieter met it with cold steel, deflecting its spear thrust with his open hand as he jabbed the point of his blade deep into its chest. The next beastman followed hot on the heels of the first. Dieter parried its attack with his sword, responding with a swift riposte that left his enemy clutching a wound in its throat. The third one Dieter unbalanced with a skilful feint, before disembowelling it with a flash of his blade. He snatched the dying beastman’s shield as it fell, experimentally testing its weight as he prepared to face his next opponent. ‘Don’t get cocky,’ Holst growled from behind him. ‘Keep it simple.’ In battle, Holst was a revelation. For weeks, Dieter had only known him as his snoring companion on the dull journey northward. Now, in his element, Holst was like a tiger. Where Dieter was a fencer, Holst was a street fighter. He made war a matter of brutal practicality. He fought with sword, shield, elbow and knees: Dieter didn’t doubt the other man would be willing to use his teeth if that was what it took to kill an enemy. From the corner of his vision, he saw Holst head butt an ungor, striking with the brow of his helmet to smash the creature between the eyes. As that beastman fell, he lashed out at another, striking with his shield rim at its throat before finishing it with a quick stab of his sword. In his own way, he was as relentless and purposeful as any back-alley brawler. He made sure when he hit someone, they did not get up. Despite the two men’s best efforts, the position was hopeless. Even as he dispatched another beastman with a thrust of his sword, Dieter realised they were only delaying the inevitable. There were too many beastmen. For every one they killed, another moved forward to take its place. Already, he and Holst were being hemmed in, forced to fight in the ever-decreasing space afforded by the press of beastmen around them. Soon, they would be overwhelmed. The Black Library Page 6 Relief when it came was sudden and unexpected. Dieter heard a voice cry out. ‘Forward! Forward the 3rd! Forward for Hochland!’ A trumpet sounded nearby, signalling a charge. Other voices joined it. Almost before Dieter could work out what was happening, the mass of beastmen around them dissipated as the creatures fled. He saw a group of swordsmen come charging from the forest, clad in the same grey and red uniforms as Holst. Dieter’s heart caught in his mouth as he realised their identity. They were the Scarlets. Seeing them in the flesh brought to mind the childish dreams of his younger years, when he had idled his days at the mill looking forward to the time when he would come of age and could become a soldier. The Scarlets attacked with controlled ferocity, cutting through the beastmen like a scythe. As they swept the enemy before them, Dieter heard the same battle cry repeated, taken up by the chorus of dozens of voices. ‘Forward the 3rd! Forward for Hochland!’ Before he knew what he was doing, he had taken up the cry himself. With Holst beside him, Dieter joined the Scarlets in pursuing the fleeing beastmen. The finesse he had used earlier in fighting the enemy was gone. Caught up in the moment, he lashed out at the beastmen as they ran. With the battle turned in the caravan’s favour, he was eager for vengeance. He fought without thought of strategy or tactics. His sword rose and fell, lost in a haze of blood. Too soon, there were no more enemies left to fight. As the last of the beastmen fled from the trail into the forest, Dieter made to follow them. Holst stopped him. The big man stepped in front of Dieter, sword sheathed and his hand held out in a warding gesture. ‘Leave them. We’d be fools to chase them through the forest and the beastmen know it. The woods are theirs. Anyway, they’ve been put to flight. It’s over, lad. Cool your fires.’ Coming back to his senses, Dieter realised he was breathing heavily. Sheathing his own sword, he glanced down at the thick wooden shield he had taken from one of the dead beastmen. In the aftermath of battle, it seemed an unclean thing, carved with strange and sickening runes. He threw it away. Wiping at the sweat staining his face, he turned to inspect the men and carts of the caravan. It was difficult to judge from where he The Black Library Page 7 was standing, but he gathered more had survived than he would have expected. He supposed the victuallers and their guards were hardy men, accustomed to the threat of ambush on lonely roads. He looked toward the cart he and Holst had been riding in. Otto was still in the same place, pinned to his seat, the haft of the beastman spear jutting from his chest. ‘Aye, it’s a shame,’ Holst said, following the direction of Dieter’s gaze. ‘He seemed an all right sort. But, that’s war for you. You never know when you’ll get it. All you can hope is that your comrades give you a good send-off. With that in mind…’ Having apparently decided a suitable period of mourning had passed, Holst began to move toward the cart. ‘You have to be sharp about these things,’ he called over his shoulder.